“Beer After Dark”

c. 2020 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(1-20)

Dinner.

I had a plate of mashed potatoes and bacon. Not much of a culinary delight, but a filling meal, nevertheless. One suited to cap a day of nothingness. I spoke to my friend Janis twice. Once in the morning, as she was contemplating a shopping trip to Geneva with her roommate. And once again, at a later hour, after she had procured a fresh bottle of Southern Comfort. Jabbering, jawing, sputtering on about needing to find her car keys. A metaphor for purpose in life.

I pondered my own schedule while listening.

Doctor appointments filled our calendar. Several were for her, to address a series of small strokes she had suffered over the summer. The precipitated wages of her own self-neglect. She had ignored high blood pressure as if it had little meaning. Then combined that misdeed with many cigarettes and a diet rich on sodium and poor on nutrients. Indifferent and unaffected.

Until her day of judgment.

A week at University Hospitals Main Campus, in Cleveland, over the summer, brought her back to earth. Still rowdy and raucous of course, not calmly sliding toward personal oblivion. She chugged Dr. Pepper Cherry with defiance. Yet held tight to my hand.

I knew she was afraid.

My own reaction to this reality-shift fermented during the progression of months from August to January. I found myself calmed by the calendar. By this orderly march of time from today toward tomorrow. But then, a familiar habit returned. One that I had lost amid duties and desires.

The visitation of my personal muse. Dwelling patiently at the bottom of a beverage glass:

Beer after dark

Got a hole in my heart

Dimple mug at the ready

Golden pilsner keeps me steady

I raise my toast to the night

Drink deep and delight

Take my part

Beer after dark

Flame from a spark

Wordsmith at the keys

Let me sling a few of these

Phrases in motion

My pen and my potion

Second start

Beer after dark

My head splits apart

I got up at midnight

Today did not feel right

But the yield was this rant

Speak of duty to the sycophant

Tease the tart

Beer after dark

My brush paints the art

A blessing on canvas

The world can kiss my ass

I feel no regret

The paradigm is set

Make my mark

Beer after dark

A dance with the aardvark

Sat up at the desk

After a moment of rest

I spit words like teeth

Burned up from the heat

Let me start

Beer after dark

The insignificant quark

A step taken forward

A fall out of orbit

Coast to Coast AM plays

My night lasts for days

Take my part

Beer after dark

Smudged letter postmark

Here I am at the station

A dark cloud divination

I stand at the door

What am I waiting for?

To depart

Beer after dark

A bite from a shark

Swim with the damned

A floater I am

Cursed to the tide

With secrets inside

Bless my heart

Beer after dark

Bow to the matriarch

My song lives in echoes

You know how it goes

From the fields of Ohio

To New York, set aglow

I am hard

Beer after dark

The key to my heart

Inspiration guaranteed

The northstar that I need

My compass at the ready

A guidepost I will see

Traveling far

Beer after dark

Another case in my cart

The sweet taste of nectar

Makes me steadfast and sure

I rise to the morning

Hear temple bells ring

Across the park

Beer after dark

A Word document start

Black light in the room

My vision coming soon

What is unseen grows clearer

My salvation comes nearer

On the chart

Beer after dark

A taste of brewer’s art

Radio news overnight

Memories keep me right

A console from the 30’s

My Philco from a trash heap

Fixed with parts

Beer after dark

Dozen drinks to the restart

I sit at my desk

And compose prose for hecks

Friends are all sleeping

But my brain is bleeding

A story arc

Beer after dark

A whim and a lark

Who will read this poem?

Not sure that I know them

Yet nothing matters less

Than a need for success

Not my part

Beer after dark

This label is my birthmark

The first taste of brew

Created the you

What is seen as myself

A capricious groundswell

That I are

Beer after dark

A fool lost in Walmart

Shopping for words

Whatever I’ve heard

Marked down or discarded

Ideas restarted

Dog made to bark

Beer after dark

My writ with the clark

This session is over

My plea has been heard

The mug has gone empty

No more words in me

Now I depart

After 2:00 in the morning, I heard rain beginning to fall outside. An odd refrain for January. Yet one that seemed to compliment my mood. My feeling of a life out-of-place. I wished for Janis to be awake. So we could text back and forth like teenagers, while I was writing. At the age of 58, such silly preoccupations of time felt strangely appealing.

But there were no messages from my friend.

Coast to Coast AM with George Noory still reverberated from my Roku. A sound that filled the living room, some distance away. I sat at the desk. My Black Lab lay on the carpet, nearby, snoring like an old man.

At last, the night was complete.

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